


I Do, Ye Bloody Wanker...

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Drunkenness, Historical References, M/M, Post-War, Relationship(s), Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:39:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jayden Mundy knew it was only a matter of time. Of course his bloody boyfriend was the one man he swore he would never have to deal with again.</p><p>"RED!Sniper x BLU!Spy is my absolute favorite."</p><p>Sorry that this was the only one I really was able to do. College was super busy, and I only wanted to deliver the best. But nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do, Ye Bloody Wanker...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hayateliger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayateliger/gifts).



> as always, my research is at the bottom, noted by the * after lines or words that I may need explanation or reiteration.

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Of all people on this cruel earth, why did he have to be him!?_

Jayden Mundy bemoaned these thoughts in his head until his track was like a broken record, constantly going in circles as his body was slouched over the bar counter. On one hand, he knew this was eminent. At every chance he sought to be happy, something had to go and ruin it.

Getting a job would make his parents get off his back, so he took up Team Fortress Industries’ offer; his parents haggled him more over the _content_ of his work.

_Snipin’s a ruddy well good job, thank yeh very much!_

Going to America could mean he could avoid the Austrailum ridden people of his home nation, and no longer have those expectations placed on him; everyone on the team ridiculed him for it at some point or another.

 _Figures that I’m in America and don’t expect stereotyping. That one_ may _be on me._

To avoid any social contact with people, and to do his job properly, he secluded himself on and off battles; this made him meet _him_.

_Stupid bloody Spy…Yeh Wanker!_

Now that the war was over, and he received his final paycheck and bonus of a number that made even his parents shut up, he decided to pursue a life of ease away from society. Settle down, maybe have a boyfriend, hunt animals for fun…

And then he met Antoine.

It was almost comical how they met, like how they do in the movies. Jayden was in the Sydney airport after going on a year long wilderness road trip across America, and was about to catch a taxi. To his utter surprise, in the taxi line, there was a man who was thoroughly out of his element. He was in shorts and a button down shirt with a sun hat in July. He obviously had not thought that July was a _winter month_ in the southern hemisphere. It was 2.2 degrees Celsius (36 degrees Fahrenheit) for crying out loud! He was shaking and looked rather embarrassed by his whole position. It was no mystery he was a foreigner, and tourists were common prey to jokes. Jayden, however, knew what it was like to be the receiving end of said jabs, so he took pity on the poor frozen man. Luckily, the tourist was standing right in front of Jayden in the queue, so talking was easier.

“Need a hand, Mate?” he asked, taking off his coat for the stranger, who seemed almost scared of the lanky Australian. He visibly flinched when Jayden put the source of warmth over his shoulders.

“Merci…” he murmured slowly, moving himself more under the coat and pulling it closer. The French word was like a slap in the face to the Australian, and his mind momentarily flashed back to the spies in Dustbowl, where he worked previously. He shook his head to clear it. There were plenty of French men out there, and a good many of them could possibly want to go to Australia. But not _that_ French man. No, this _certainly_ wasn’t _him_.

“Forgot its winter here in July?” he asked.

“Oui…I was told by an acquaintance of mine that Australia was hot…” the European admitted sheepishly.

“In December, yeah.” Jayden agreed. “but not now. Just head on over to the shopping area, buy a new wardrobe, and you’ll be set.” He advised. The other nodded and looked down at the coat pensively, seemingly trying to make sense of the kind gesture. Jayden didn’t know why, but he wanted to talk more to this man who seemed so lost.

“Wot’s wrong?” he asked. The stranger shook his head.

“Nothing, just embarrassed. I used to travel all over the world for work, but never once did I ‘ave this problem until I settled in one place for my career. And now that I’ve retired…” he trailed off.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Mate…tell yeh the truth, I’m in the same boat as you. I managed to retire from a stressful job and since I’ve been doing it for so long, I’m not sure what I planned on doing. I basically disappeared off the face of the planet for a year. Only just got back now.” Why was he talking to this man? What was it about him that made him feel like he could socialize without it getting awkward?

The Frenchman glanced to the Australian in curiosity.

“Oh? Where did you go?”

“Anywhere, really. Any place with game, a good view, and no people. But I guess that isn’t your scene, yeah?” Jayden said, a small grin cracking the side of his lips.

“Non, it is not…” the man chuckled. “I prefer the comforts of modern ‘otels and resorts.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they slowly inched their way to the front of the line.

“I do not believe we have introduced ourselves. I am Antoine Mimieux.” The no longer stranger said, turning and holding his hand out for a shake. Jayden took it and felt the smooth hands of the other in his calloused grip.

“Jayden Mundy.” He responded. Antoine gave a small smile at the contact and seemed to be thinking of a past memory, almost as if he knew something that Jayden didn’t.

That was how they met. After that, Antoine seemed to pop up everywhere like clockwork. It was uncanny, but by no means unpleasant. Despite his past knowledge and experiences with Frenchmen, Jayden liked Antoine. He was charming and all around friendly. He too was professional and polite. He still remembered when Antoine asked him out on a date. They had been seeing each other in a friendly manner for two weeks, and it had been over a month since they met.

“What is your opinion of men, mon ami?” the European asked casually while they sipped their coffee. Jayden had black with one sugar. Antoine had a caramel and (ironically) French vanilla cappuccino. The former looked to Antoine in slight confusion.

“Whaddya mean, mate?” he questioned in slight shock and curiosity. Antoine had asked questions that were stranger than this. Such as why Jayden drove on the left side of the road.

“What do you think of them?” Antoine pressed. “I want to know if I can ask you something.”

There was a pause as Jayden looked around the café nervously.

“I don’t know how it is in France without going into stereotype, but we can’t talk about that sort of thing in public here.” He muttered over his coffee cup, giving him a look that told him to shut up. Antoine looked around as well before taking out a pen and a pad of paper from his leather jacket pocket and wrote down something.

“Call me next time you wish to meet up.” He said, sliding the paper across the table before getting up with his coffee in hand. Jayden watched him leave in slight confusion before taking the piece of paper. He knew Antoine’s number by heart. So why was he- _oh._

He read the number as he remembered it, but above the familiar digits, there was a fancy handwriting that couldn’t be mistaken for its true intent.

_As my boyfriend, that is._

Jayden couldn’t help it. He smiled.

He recalled their first date and how nervous he was. He never been on a date with a man, and wasn’t sure how to act. He knew how to handle a sheila, but a bloke? Not a chance. He must have stuttered more than ever in front of the perfectly dressed and relaxed Antoine. Luckily, as nervous as Jayden was about it being his first date with the same sex, and the added on danger of doing so in Australia in the 80’s*, Antoine never faltered in being able to make it seem as though they were friends, though he still held his hand under the table.

Antoine surprised him by buying an apartment for them both to share a week later, where they could be open no matter what. It wasn’t long before they shared a bed and even began doing other activities. He still remembered how scared he was about hurting Antoine, despite the Frenchman’s insistence that he wouldn’t. That sickening feeling of having so much control over the other…that at any moment he could cause the other harm… Antoine held his hand the entire time, assuring, encouraging, and loving.

The next morning, he had never felt better in his life.

That changed only a few hours ago, three years later. Antoine, the ever relaxed and charming boyfriend as he was, nervously called him into their living space before telling Jayden who he really was. He claimed he didn’t want Jayden to ever find out at first, thinking he never had to know. However, with the time passing and feeling ever more like he was lying to him, he finally decided to be completely honest.

Jayden knew he overreacted, but at the time he was mad. Infuriated. Now he was just ashamed that he ever thought he loved the man. The _fucking BLU Spy…_ of course it had to happen to him. He always had the bad end of it all.

So here he was. In a pub, drinking a beer with a thing called self pity and loneliness. He was drowning his shame in liquor and tried to null the feeling of absolute agony. Jayden had been there for nearly three hours and had seen many men and women come and go, some talking to him, others ignoring him, but most just didn’t even notice him.

That included Antoine, who came in looking like he was a shell of a man. Jayden barely recognized him in his crumples clothes, unkempt hair and under shave. He looked nearly ten years over what his actual age was and he collapsed into a chair not a few stools away from Jayden, seemingly unknowing of his presence there.

The bartender entered the picture and offered him a beer. Antoine declined and demanded two vodkas and some moonshine.

“I want to be _smashed._ ” He demanded.

“Whoa there, mate. May want to take it easy at first…” the bartended suggested nervously.

“What do you think zhe vodka iz for?” Antoine snapped. His accent was even thicker than normal, and Jayden knew that only happened when the emotions ran deep though the Frenchman. The bartender nodded shakily before giving him his requested drinks.

“What happened, sheila broke yer heart?” the employee asked gently and curiously. Antoine sighed heavily and drowned his two shots of vodka quickly.

“whomever said that in order to maintain a relationship, you ‘ave to be brutally ‘onest… _Vous avez le cerveau d'un sandwich au fromage*!”_ he bemoaned, resting his head on the counter with his eyes closed. “I told my partner who I was and…my love abandoned me! Just walked out zhat door, calling me a sneak and a rat…”

“I’m sorry, mate…sheila didn’t deserve you then.”

Jayden felt his fists clench at the words, but bit his tongue. The fucking spy _lied to him_ for _three years_.

“Non, I deserve it…I do not deserve nice things, much less perfect people…my love is right to leave me for better things…that does little to console me, of course…”

Jayden felt his grip loosen as he listened.

“We have been together for three years…we were so happy…you know, when I first met mon cher beyond work, we were in a taxi line? Mon amour gave me a coat when I came because I was cold. I thought it was summer in July…not quite the same in France you see…in any case, I was afraid mon cher would recognize me and I feared for my life. However, mon cher proved to be none the wiser, and I couldn’t believe my good luck. I always had a small admiration for the professional, and I fully admit it was the whole reason I went to Australia. Upon retiring, I wished to have a piece of mon cher to remember by…memories, if you will…but who should I meet in the taxi line but mon cher! Never was I so overjoyed and embarrassed in my life…

“We were young lovers, though perhaps our best years have already passed us…beside that, we were happy. Oui, we had our fights, but we always overcame them. Isn’t that how couples work? Three years…the only years where anything made sense…when I first met mon cher, my life suddenly was worthwhile and I hardly even consider myself alive before that moment…”

“yeah? Sounds hopeless, mate. I’m sorry…”

“I’m not sorry…I just wished mon cher stayed longer in the room…listened to me.” The spook said with dreary eyes, but he reached into his coat pocket. “…and maybe perhaps mon amour would wear this on their ring finger.”

He pulled out a small gold loop with an all too familiar clear rock on the end. It was simple, but the craftsmanship was exquisite.

“I’ve been carrying this for nearly a year…” He continued. “waiting for the right moment…but it’s gone…”

Antoine was silent after that, twirling the ring in his fingers with the same dexterity he showed with his signature butterfly knife. He steadily moved from one shot of moonshine to six. By the end of his seventh, he was gone. His mind, his manners, even his _shirt_ , disappeared. As soon as he began to remove his pants, Jayden knew it was high time to step in. If he didn’t, then someone else would.

“Ok, mate. Keep yer clothes on.” Jayden said, grabbing the ex-BLU’s arms and pulled them away from their mission of baring even more skin for the world to see. Thankfully, the other consumers hadn’t noticed that Antoine had essentially began to strip. It wasn’t uncommon for men to walk about in December with their shirts off.

“Yer takin’ him home?” the bartender asked, pointing to the absentminded man in Jayden’s arms.

“Yeah.” He said, fishing out his credit card from his pocket and giving it to the employee. “Put it all on me tab. I was just leavin’ anyway.”  

“Jydn?” came a muffled voice. Antoine’s head was buried in his neck as of he had no energy to hold it up himself. “Jydn” ignored his lover and took his card back, dragging the man over his shoulder and carrying him out with a nonchalant wave over his shoulder, as if this were a normal thing for him.

“Iiitssss yOUuu!” the intoxicated Frenchman exclaimed in delight, smiling from ear to ear as he recognized the smell and feel of his face in the Aussie’s neck.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Jayden responded tersely, struggling with the other as Antoine became more and more difficult with every movement. He willingly put all his weight on the lanky Australian, first off. Then he began to have wandering hands, sneaking a touch on his rear and crotch unless Jayden jerked him sharply in warning. Lastly, he wouldn’t stop singing his lover’s name out to the world. When they _finally_ made it to the car, Antoine had one final surprise side effect of drunkenness for Jayden: regurgitation.

Jayden forced himself to count to fifty with every hack and heave the other made all over the floorboards of his camper. No doubt the smell wouldn’t leave for weeks.

By the time Jayden had hoisted Antoine into bed, it was a solid hour after they entered the apartment building. After finding the elevator broken until the next day, when maintenance could come in, he was forced to carry the drunken mess up the stairs. All twelve floors. Antoine had passed out after the first three floors. After dropping him twice and Antoine still failed to wake, Jayden gave up with being careful and just shoved him any way he could up the steps like a ragdoll.

Jayden panted and shed his shirt angrily as sweat clung to his body from the exhertion, cursing at how he was too helpful sometimes. Here he was, helping the man whom lied to him for three years, and backstabbed him another six before that.

He promised himself that he was going to kick him out in the morning. Let the man wallow in his sorrow! Let the pompous bastard freeze in hell! Let him feel the hurt he felt! Let him-

He froze as he saw that Antoine was still holding the diamond ring. His anger slowly subsided and curiosity pulled him towards the symbol of dedication and love. Calloused hands pried the ring from smoother ones and he held the precious object reverently.

He bought it for _him._ Carried it for a _year._ Loved him enough to _marry_ him…to risk _everything_ for him…

Marriage…that wasn’t scary or anything. Especially not for their kind of relationship…but…love was love. And he was forced to recognize one simple fact: he still loved the bastard. Even if he was a BLU.

His gaze went from the ring to the ex-spy in his bed, sleeping away and still believing that Jayden hated him. His face, though sweaty and with hair tousled everywhere, was still so serene in its slumber. The rugged bushman stood, shaking his head.

Antoine was a BLU spy. Jayden was a RED sniper. They had left that life behind for good. Why bring it back in such arguing ways? Perhaps this would only make them stronger in the end…

He subconsciously slipped the ring onto his left hand’s ring finger.

“I do, ye bloody wanker…”

**Author's Note:**

> *being openly homosexual in Australia in the 1980s was in essence throwing caution to the wind. It wasn't an accepted form of relationship, and violence against homosexuals wasn't uncommon. However, the laws have changed over time, and recently discrimination protection was passed by law in the Sex Discrimination Amendment (Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Intersex Status) Act of 2013  
> *"Vous avez le cerveau d'un sandwich au fromage!" is translated as "You have the brain of a cheese sandwich!" I thought it to be a silly insult that would indeed be worthy for the extravagant spy.


End file.
